


Never Going To Let You Go

by Higgles123



Series: Tommy Shelby one shots [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 08:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20832377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgles123/pseuds/Higgles123
Summary: These are a series of one shots that I wrote for a very dear friend





	Never Going To Let You Go

**Author's Note:**

> These are a series of one shots that I wrote for a very dear friend

“Did you know that Matthew asked her out this morning?”

Tommy looked up from the contract he was reading and stared Polly dead in the eye. She knew him well enough to see the minor crack in his disinterested façade, and she struggled to keep the smug look off of her face.

“She told him no,” Polly continued. “But a pretty girl like her, it’ll only be a matter of time before she catches someone else’s eye.”

“And you’re telling me this why?” Tommy murmured, leaning back in his chair coolly. “Do you not think I have better things to do with my time then worry about who’s fucking who in the office?”

“I was just making conversation,” Polly shrugged flippantly, leaning over the desk to extinguish her cigarette in the ashtray.

At that moment, there was a firm rap on the door and _the _Matthew walked in to hand Tommy a bunch of papers. “I’ll just leave these with you, Mr Shelby. They need signing and going out with the post first thing in the morning.”

Tommy watched as his young account left, and he couldn’t stop the scowl that crossed his face. At thirty years of age, Matthew was nice enough but he was a terrible bore. The thought of you going out with someone like that made Tommy clench his hand subconsciously around the expensive fountain pen he held. The thought of Matthew holding you close while you danced the night away; the thought of his hands, his mouth touching you made him angrier than he knew it should have. But Tommy knew that it wasn’t just Matthew. It was any man. He had no right to feel that way but even when he saw you laughing innocently with Arthur or bringing one of the clerks a coffee it ate him up inside.

“Well, I’ll be off then,” Polly announced, picking up her handbag with a barely contained smirk. As she reached the door, she turned and spoke once more. “You know, Thomas, green really isn’t your colour.”

As Polly’s high heels click clacked through the building, Tommy slammed his pen down with a growl. Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. Fucking Polly and her smarmy fucking face. She really did know him too well.

….

You were minding your own business, your fingers tapping away on the keys of the type writer; the noise so similar to that of Polly’s triumphant footsteps only moments before that he was certain it was teasing him. You were so engrossed in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice Tommy stand in front of you, giving him the opportunity to watch you. You were many things; kind, warm and also you didn’t take any crap from him or anyone else in the office. You were strong and independent, yet it was in moments like this that he found himself watching you with fascination. The vulnerability you rarely possessed charmed him. The way your nose crinkled with concentration and your mouth mimed the words you were typing were strangely endearing.

Tommy cleared his throat, causing you to cease in your work immediately. You looked up at him and smiled. Tommy swallowed. That was the smile that managed to make even the worst of days better. It was the smile that was like sunshine on the rainiest of days. He wasn’t sure when he had become so poetic, but there was something about you that had turned him into fucking John Keats.

“Everything alright?” you asked, peering over your glasses.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, smoking languidly on a cigarette, enveloping himself in a cloud of smoke. A sight and smell that might have sickened you had it been anyone else. But not with Tommy. There was just something about seeing him smoking that made you feel all funny inside. He owned it, just like he owned everything else in his life. He pulled out a wad of notes and handed you a few. Well, more like flung them unceremoniously on the desk in front of you. “I need you to cancel any plans you might have for tomorrow night. Get yourself a nice dress and I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Can I ask where it is we’re going?” you frown, eyeing the money suspiciously.

“No.”

“Alrighty then,” you replied, more than used to Tommy’s behaviour and clipped answers. “I take it it’s for business?”

“No.”

Tommy didn’t even acknowledge the shock and confusion on your face.

“Eight o’clock,” he repeated and then he was gone. 

……….

You were waiting outside the front door of your flat when the pristine car pulled up outside. You bit back a grin. Tommy was exactly on time. Not that you expected anything different. You had worked for the man for over a year, and had quickly discovered that he was a stickler for detail. If he had a meeting scheduled for a certain time, he would be ready and prepared at that time come hell or high water. You had often noticed the way his jaw would clench irritably when faced with other people’s tardiness, and he would smoke even more than he did already which was really quite a feat. This was one of the many reasons that had prompted you to make your way downstairs at promptly five minutes to eight and wait for him. And your forward thinking was rewarded with a hint of a smile as you climbed into the passenger seat.

As the car pulled away from the street, manoeuvring past a group of children who were out long past their bedtime, Tommy said nothing. His eyes were focused on the road in front of him.

“So am I allowed to ask where it is we’re going yet?” you asked with a grin, smoothing down the skirt of your dress.

“You can ask,” Tommy grinned back, glancing at you quickly before concentrating on the road once more. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll get an answer.”

You sat back in your seat and smirked, feeling frustration and excitement all at the same time.

“Well can you at least tell me if I’m dressed suitably for the occasion?” you wondered aloud.

“You look perfect,” Tommy murmured, his eyes softening ever so slightly as he looked over at you again.

Perfect wasn’t an adequate enough description of you. It wasn’t just the fancy dress and heels, or the way you had styled your hair. It was just you. To him, you looked perfect every day. Even on the days when you arrived at work, soaked from head to toe; your hair plastered to your face and make up smudged under your eyes.

You smiled bashfully and tried to ignore the delicious flutter in your stomach; forcing yourself instead to focus on the streets whizzing past the window.

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence, the busy streets of Birmingham fading into fields and country roads. You wondered if perhaps Tommy was taking you to Arrow House. You were certainly heading the right direction. But when he bypassed the turning and continued further into the country, you frowned.

“Ok, I give in,” you sighed. “Will you just tell me where we’re going?”

“Are you or are you not the same girl who told me in her job interview that she would enjoy working for me because she loves to be surprised?” he eyeballed her pointedly.

“Well yes,” you admitted begrudgingly; feeling a little astonished that he would remember a minor detail like that.

“So wait another ten minutes and you’ll have the answer to your surprise, alright?” Tommy smirked at the mask of irritation on your face. “Don’t worry it’s nothing bad.”

“Like you’d tell me if it was,” you murmured.

Ten minutes later, you pulled up right beside a thicket of trees and Tommy leisurely walked around the car to open your door for you. The ground was soaked with mud and you grimaced when your shiny black heels squelched.

“Hmm, maybe boots would have been more suitable,” Tommy looked down at your feet and frowned.

“Well perhaps if you had told me where the hell we were going, I might have been able to dress accordingly,” you huffed.

“Guess I’ll have to carry you,” Tommy decided.

“Are you for real? Carry me? Carry me where exactly?”

“Listen, you can let me carry you or you can get those nice shoes of yours ruined. Your choice?”

Tommy’s lips twitched at the indecision in your eyes, and finally you let out a growl. His face splitting into a wide grin, Tommy turned around and squatted slightly; motioning for you to climb onto his back. You had to hoist your dress up around your knees in a rather undignified manner but you did as you were asked. Tommy carried you through the thicket of trees and into a large field. The night air was cold, but you could only feel the heat that radiated from Tommy’s grasp on your thighs, stopping you from sliding down. He walked and walked until you could make out the shape of something in the distance. As you got closer, you realised it was a vardo illuminated softly by the roar of a crackling fire.

“Tommy,” the familiar voice belonging to Johnny Dogs called out.

“Johnny,” Tommy smiled, depositing you onto the wooden steps of the vardo, where you hastily rearranged your dress; embarrassed that Johnny had gotten a good glimpse of so much skin. “Is everything ready.”

“That it is, Tom,” Johnny grinned, before turning to you. “You’re looking mighty fine tonight if I may say so.”

“You may not,” Tommy raised an eyebrow at him. “Now off you go.”

With a knowing smile and small bow of his head, Johnny started across the field with his hands in his pockets and whistling a cheerful tune. Tommy turned to look at you, and was struck by the way the fire cast an almost ethereal shade upon your face.

“Shall we?” he motioned towards the door of the vardo as though this was an everyday occurrence.

Allowing him to guide you inside, you gasped when you saw the sweet little set up before you. A small table and two chairs sat right in the middle of the deceivingly large space, and candles were dotted around the room, illuminating it with a soft glow.

“I know it’s probably not the grand date you might have hoped for,” Tommy cleared his throat, pulling out one of the chairs for you. “But I wanted tonight to be spent without the eyes and ears of everyone else on us. And you know as well as I do that wouldn’t happen if we’d have gone somewhere more public.”

“I… love it,” you smiled genuinely, popping your bag down on the floor underneath your chair as Tommy took the seat opposite you.

“You might not say that after we eat whatever it is that Johnny’s made for us,” Tommy smirked, prodding at the casserole dish in the middle of the table. He ladled some onto your plate and then dished some out for himself. He sniffed it gingerly. “Hmm, smells alright. Guess the test is in the taste, eh?”

He poured you both a glass of champagne from the bottle on the table and then hesitantly took a taste of the food before him. “Do you not like stew?” he frowned, noticing that you had yet to touch yours.

“Oh no, I like it just fine,” you shook your head, your eyes twinkling. “But I just thought I’d wait and see if you keel over first before I try some.”

“I see,” Tommy grinned at your joke. He took another mouthful, his eyes never leaving yours as he chewed.

Smiling, you tucked in.

The evening was pleasant. You talked and talked. At first about things to do with work, but Tommy quickly shut that down.

“I’ve not brought you here to discuss business,” he informed you promptly.

And that was when you noticed it. The hunger in his eyes. You thought had seen it once or twice in the past, but always put it down to wishful thinking on your part. After all, you’d been attracted to Tommy from the first moment you met him. It was hard not to be. Those ice blue eyes were hypnotising; mesmerising. But never for one minute did you think that he might have felt the same way about you. Even when you had sat open mouthed at your desk the previous afternoon, contemplating why Tommy wanted to take you out for a reason other than business, you had still convinced yourself his reasoning was completely platonic. Now though, you allowed yourself a small moment of internal giddiness at the fact that it was completely possible that Thomas Shelby found you attractive too.

After that daunting yet exciting realisation, the champagne and the conversation flowed effortlessly. Tommy was eager to hear all about your childhood. He knew most, if not all of it, considering that he made it his business to do a detailed background check on all of his employees. But a background check was only able to give him facts. It couldn’t give him the story about you pushing your brother off of a wall, causing him to break his arm; or the tale of you discovering at the grand old age of six that you wanted to be a snowman (until you realised that snowmen melted and therefore a better career path might be a pirate instead).

Finding himself completely and utterly relaxed in your company, Tommy had regaled you with anecdotes from his own childhood; many of which he hadn’t thought about long since before the war.

……

The hour grew late, and as you and Tommy sat on the steps of the vardo passing a cigarette back and forth, you closed your eyes and listened the gentle sounds of nature surrounding you; basking in the quietness. An owl hooted in the distance, calling out to its mate; a hare scurried across the field. It was so peaceful.

“Do you want to dance?” Tommy asked quietly.

You opened your eyes to find him watching you intently; his eyes devouring you.

“We don’t have any music,” you chuckled. “Unless this is the point that you reveal your amazing singing skills?”

“Nah, I’m tone deaf,” Tommy chortled, standing up and offering you his hand. “Besides, we don’t need music.”

With a wry smile, you allowed him to pull you up to your feet and nestled yourself comfortably in his warm embrace. You soon realised that the gentle thud of his heart beat beneath your ear that rested upon his chest was all the music you needed.

Tommy held you close and permitted himself to inhale your jasmine scent as it wafted up his nose. For a moment he imagined a life where he could have you in his arms like this forever. With a smile, he realised it didn’t have to be a dream. It could be a reality. And it was a reality he very much wanted. No. It was a reality he _needed._

His hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb running across your soft skin. He tilted your head up before his lips brushed against yours in a butterfly of a kiss. He pulled back and smiled down at you. Tommy Shelby wasn’t a patient man. He was used to having everything as soon as he laid eyes upon it. But you were different. He was going to take his time with you. After all, you had your whole lives together, whether or not you knew it. He was never going to let you go. Not now. Not ever.


End file.
